Physical Diagnosis

April 26, 2010

6 weeks until my Board Exam!  Between studying and family visitors, this week has been fun and busy.  Wednesday will be my last weekly Physical Diagnosis class at the hospital, and I want to commemorate the occasion by describing this experience, which has been the highlight of my semester.

For the past 14 weeks, each Wednesday I have gotten up at 5:15am to commute to school, then ride a bus 1.5 hours west, and spend a day at a large regional hospital to learn Physical Diagnosis skills.  I travelled with 17 other students to participate in interactive lectures, and practice history and exam skills with in-patients at the hospital.  The day was organized so we had one hour of lecture, two hours with a patient for a complete history and exam, lunch with another lecturer, and then time to present our patient to a physician and revisit the patient.  Each week we were expected to write a complete report and submit it by e-mail for feedback.

I was worried about being exhausted (waking up at 5:15am  and commuting 1.5 hours each way), but every Wednesday I’ve felt so excited.  Rather than our typical medical lectures, which are focused around organs, these lectures were organized around symptoms, such as “dizziness” and “fever.”  My classmates and I were challenged by real patient cases, including one memorable autobiographical story that our favorite physician lecturer shared to introduce the topic of “headaches.”  He told a dramatic story about driving to work at the hospital, going 70 mph on the highway, when suddenly he felt a “pop” and experienced the worst headache of his life.  He instantly knew the diagnosis, which he described as “the most awesome diagnosis I ever made in my life.”

Any thoughts?  That’s how each day began, brainstorming, guessing and creating what is called a “differential diagnosis.”  We were encouraged to separate the “common” and “lethal” causes.  Along the way, we also learned about physical exam tests, such as the Dix-Hallpike maneuver (an exam to diagnose benign positional vertigo, a type of dizziness).  We also sharpened exam skills that we already covered, such as the eye exam.

Most importantly, we had a lot of time devoted to each patient.  I introduced myself, taking care to clarify that I am a second year medical student practicing my physical exam skills.  I saw patients from 6-months to 86 years-old, in Spanish and English, and suffering from a variety of ailments: a 22 year-old with septic bacteremia (from an infected pimple), a pregnant woman who had been vomiting blood for 2 weeks, a homeless man who had been admitted 22 times in the past year, a diabetic man who confessed he ate a Big Mac and large fries daily, and multiple chronic smokers who had not stopped smoking despite severe COPD (lung damage resulting in less ability for oxygen intake).

Often I felt overcome by gratitude for these patients who were willing to share stories, and let a fledgling examine them.  Although I came to medicine because I wanted to serve people, I usually feel that people are serving me.  I can only hope that by compassionate attention and listening, I provided some sort of healing service that complimented their care.  However, at times I wasn’t sure of this, especially when I was told to wake up patients who seemed exhausted.

I wish there were some way to thank these patients, and convey how much it means to have these experiences.  Each new patient who I meet with a certain condition becomes forever engraved in my mind with that illness.  They give me a face and meaning, and help the massive amounts of information begin to stick to something more substantial than a pneumonic or acronym.

No doubt this class was my favorite, and also the most valuable learning experience in medical school so far.  There were many visible improvements, such as increasing comfort while performing exams and asking questions, less pauses during my oral presentations and less time to type my reports.  This weekly experience will soon be my daily experience as I start my 3rd year in a few months, and frankly I cannot wait.


Getting My Wisdom Tooth Pulled

April 3, 2010

RIP tooth #16.

Now that I am a medical student, it feels stranger than ever before to be a patient.  I have a new awareness of how the clinician perceives the interaction, as well as lots of new medical facts floating around in my head.  I want to be concise and concrete when I explain myself, and ask questions to learn relevant information.  I want to know the medical language.  In short, I want to make a memorable scientific experiment of my own body.

This week I needed a tooth extraction, which is the first “medical” procedure (besides routine exams, blood draws or vaccines) that I’ve had as a medical student.  My upper left wisdom tooth #16 had descended into my mouth- so far down that it was creating what I coined the “space of doom.”  I thought about putting off the extraction until after my Board exam in June, but in January I got a tooth ache and it was clear that the root might be partially exposed.  So, I decided to schedule it sooner.

I got ready.  I reviewed the head and neck anatomy, and followed the branches of the trigeminal nerve that would need to be numbed.  I reviewed the “caine” family of drugs, their mechanisms and side effects.  I examined my own digital copy of dental x-rays that I had requested.  I went over numbering the teeth.

I sat in the chair, and set my watch to time the procedure- exactly 35 minutes from first injection to walking out the door.  When I started to become numb, I touched my face in different areas to try to figure out if any of the superficial sensory branches had gotten blocked too, and which ones.  Then the dentist came, and I asked him questions about the x-ray.  What did they show about the root?  What did it mean?

He asked me if I had any questions about the consent form, and naturally I did.  Was he going to give me any prescriptions?  Were antibiotics really necessary?  And then, the actual procedure of removing my tooth came, and I paid attention to how he did it.  He asked for a smaller tool, but then as soon as the assistant left the room, he got my tooth out.  Immediately I wanted to see it.

The dentist obliged to my curiosity.  He explained what he was doing (I like that).  He pressed on my gum afterwards and told me that he was pushing the buccal bone in because it is so thin it tends to stretch outward during this extraction.  Who knew bones stretched?

Then, he even talked to me for a little while about my missing baby teeth (hypodontia).  He showed me the letter scheme for baby teeth to go along with the number scheme for adult teeth.  He arranged for me to pick up my tooth on Monday after it is autoclaved (a new safety precaution to sterilize teeth before patients can take them home).

And as I laid down at home, dreams of clotting factors began to dance in my head.  The epithelial damage of the tiny blood vessels around my tooth, the intrinsic and extrinsic factors, and the fibrin cross-linking to form a meshwork.  Then I began to think of the transient bacteremia in my body, and all my immune cells springing into action!  I have such appreciation for a successful medical procedure, and one that taught me a few memorable things too.  Sometimes it is good to be the patient, and be reminded of the natural feelings like fear and curiosity that go along with the experience.


Starting to Study for Step 1

April 3, 2010

 

Sea turtle I painted in Akumal, Mexico.

 

“Welcome back from your LAST spring break ever!”  This was the greeting I got from my Physical Diagnosis instructor this week.  Indeed I returned from my last official “spring break,” and I feel like I made the best of it.   I had a relaxing time with my husband’s parents in Akumal, Mexico where I celebrated my 29th birthday, practiced Spanish, swam with turtles and even did some watercolor painting.  Lovely!

In fact, it was so lovely that a part of me did not want to come back to school this week and face the challenges before me.  Mainly, it’s time to start studying for my Board exam (9 weeks away as of this morning).  I started my penultimate unit, Endocrinology, and additionally I am trying to begin a new combination of Board studying mixed with class preparation.

How does this work?  Well, it consists of spending time with the book, First Aid for USMLE Step 1, which is probably purchased by almost every medical student preparing for the Boards.  I am currently making a list of Q&A about important facts from First Aid.  Then, I’ve been listening to this nutty Oklahoma State professor, Edward Goljan.  His lectures are the cult classic of Board preparation.  My former college classmate is at OK State and has him as a professor now… lucky!  He is the best professor I’ve never had!  He has a wonderful way of focussing on clinical aspects, and an amazing laugh.

In addition to that, there is the USMLE Q-bank, which I purchased and activated recently.  It’s recommended to complete the 2,000 Q-bank practice questions before taking the Boards.  I have completed a pitiful 8% so far with dismal scores.  A typical session on tutor mode takes me several hours because I take notes on the questions I get wrong.  When my summary page comes up, I usually feel my heart sink.  These questions are the closest thing to real Board Exam questions, and they feel tough right now.  I think only twice I have taken practice test that went better (by that I mean I actually get over 50%), and I feel like maybe I’m on the right track.

I have other resources too- Lippincott’s pharmacology flash cards, Goljan’s Pathology Rapid Review, and a couple other books I bought for my classes.  I haven’t had time to incorporate them all yet, but I’m slowly working everything into my routine.  I’ve started with my most dreaded subjects, Hematology-Oncology and Biochemistry, as my goal for the next few weeks. Wish me well!


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